Northern Lights
by Alice Esther
Summary: This is a fight for identity, a fight to belong.  She'll have to trust him, or be lost forever.  He can save her or destroy her.  It's now or never under the twinkling stars and shining northern lights.  America x OC.  Rating may change.  R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**First Hetalia fanfic! *cues streamers/balloons/triumphant music***

**Contained here are kayaks, heterochromia, fluffy dogs, creepy Russia, and references to two unnamed characters.**

**Now that you're all excited, I have to add this little thing:**

***da-da-DAAAAA~~DISCLAIMER* I do not own Hetalia, Alaska, or any other nation mentioned here. I would love Russia's nuclear arsenal, but that won't happen for awhile.**

* * *

She sat on the coast, watching the waves rush in and out of the little cove. They pooled over the pebble beach, burbling and reaching upwards. Snow-covered hills sloped down hill, and she had left footprints in the white landscape. During winter, there was no green. Everything was a mass of white and grey. Her eyes stared ahead to the straight horizon in front of her, where grey seas met gray, clouded skies.

To her left, a skin-covered kayak lay foundered on the shore. It was long, well-built, and beautiful. She had built it herself as a young one. How dearly her people loved their kayaks, their fish, and their whale meat. The kayak was as much as part of her culture as the people themselves. Across her lap lay the paddle with its heavy, sturdy wood.

To the right, her faithful dog sat, panting. He fluffed out his pure, white coat against the wind. He was sturdy and strong, with big paws and a wolfish face. Russia called it a Siberian Husky, but she knew better. This was the native dog; he didn't come from Siberia. He was completely hers, blood tied to the Northlands as firmly as an anchor to the ocean floor. He looked at her with loving eyes, and she couldn't help but reach out and stroke his fluffy fur. He licked her hand and smiled at her.

She was a strange sort to the unaided European eye. She had thick black hair tied into one long braid that ran down her back. Her skin was dark, and her face was quite round. On top of all that, she had "heterochromia", a long, useless English word for her one brown eye and one blue eye. She was dressed in thick reindeer skins.

She sighed, looking at her white dog, and spoke:

"Well, here we are. How long have I lived? Maybe a thousand, two thousand years. And we all thought we were the most dominant, that we decided out futures. The Inupiat, Aleuts, and others. We were the top of the world."

She paused, feeling pent up emotion spilling out.

"First, the man with 'tomatoes' came. He claimed some piece of paper written by a man across the great ocean hundreds of years ago said that he owned me. Who is this man to decide who owns? I am my own. But he left. And the creepy guy replaced him. He killed our otters; he killed our people with horrendous diseases. He acts innocent, but he's sinister. He comes from across the great ocean, this Russia. And he says he owns me. Then, there's that other one, with the thick eyebrows. He just watches, eating strange, disgusting smelling food."

The dog's eyes hadn't moved from her face.

"They're so—bigoted. They think they can trample over everything, and treat other places like refuse." She took a deep breath, then said softly, "And they don't even _like_ me. They call me useless. They call me inferior. They call me an 'Eskie'."

The dog couldn't understand her, but her whimpered and put his head underneath her chin. She smiled sadly and petted a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, good boy. The world's changed so fast that I don't know what to do."

The waves crashed up against the shore, as if calling her.

"Let's go, boy."

The dog wagged his tail as she stood. He jumped into the forward opening on the boat. She pushed it down the slope and into the water. It hit quietly, and she jumped in behind her dog. They paddled out towards the sea, where she could get away from all the problems on shore. She could feel the sun and salt spray on her skin and pretend that everything was okay.

* * *

"Worthless. Even Latvia is more useful than you are," he said softly, but even his softest voice unsettled her. She looked down at her feet, letting her bangs form a sheltering curtain to hide his deep blue eyes. The tall Russian man stood mere inches from her, and his anger radiated like a blazing bonfire. She hadn't meant to hunt. She had gone out in the canoe to have some time of her own. Sometimes, she wished she could sail into the distance and forget all her troubles. But she always had to come back to the land, to the reality of things. She hadn't hunted; she didn't want to hunt. And she didn't hunt.

But Russia expected the otter furs. He needed the otter furs. It was the only reason he was here, the only reason he had taken her as a territory. The furs were valuable back in his country, and he had a sense of entitlement to them. But he wasn't. She shook with frightened anger. They were _her_ otters. This was _her_ land. And he didn't own anything.

He struck her across the face. Hot blood spurted from her ice cold lips, running down the right side of her chin. She said nothing. Nothing she could say would matter anyway.

"Eskie," he hissed under his breath.

The word had more effect on her than his punch. It weighed on her like a heavy weight.

"You're nothing. You're worth nothing. You have nothing here in this frozen wasteland, this …_polar bear garden_."

She bit her lip, drawing more blood to its bruised surface, trying to keep herself from breaking into tears. Her people needed her to be strong, but how come she was falling apart at mere words? She looked up to see the landscape around her. Summer brought green fields below the mountains, dotted here and there with blue forget-me-nots. They rose into pine forests which gave way to deep purple mountains with snow caps. How could he say this land was not beautiful?

Russia sighed. It sounded more like a snake's hiss. She looked back down, staring at her feet once more.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Alaska."

She hated that name. It didn't sound anything like her language. It was a Russian word. He had given it to her. He called her Alaska; he called her Eski. She just wanted him to call her Inuit.

She heard his heavy footsteps and looked up.

He walked away towards his settlement further down the shore. His long, cream-colored scarf billowed in the coastal winds.

Alaska ran. She ran towards her mountains, her home. She wanted nothing to do with this Russian anymore. She wanted everything to rewind back to the time when she had herself, and only herself. When she could roam free and not worry about catching a daily quota of otters. When she was alone.

She ran through a stand of trees, comforted by the dark shadows around her. She had just entered the tall pines when someone grasped her hand. Shocked, she stopped stock-still, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

* * *

**Fun Facts:**

**- Kayaks were invented by the Inuit.**

**- Heterochromia is common in Siberian Huskies and Alaskan Malamutes.**

**- The Inuit first began to take power around 1000 AD.**

**- Eskimo is an Inuit word, but "Eskie" was used as a derogatory term by the European settlers.**

**- The first one to tell me the identity of the two unnamed visitors to Inuit's land will win a free virtual cookie of *ANY* flavor.**

**- Russians settled in Alaska in the 1830s to get furs such as otter fur.**

**- The piece of paper mentioned is the papal bull of 1493 which granted a certain country rights to any land west and south of a certain boundary.**

**- "Polar bear garden" is actually an American phrase for Alaska brought about in the 1860s. *Oops...mini-spoiler.***

**- Do you like creeper Russia? Did I make him too harsh?**

**- Alaska is a Russian word meaning "the land" or "mainland".**

**- The Forget-me-not is Alaska's state flower.**

**- I wonder who the person in the forest is... (You can probably guess. This also receives a free cookie.)**

**So how did you like it? REVIEW! Now. Don't walk away. DON't YOU DARE CLOSE OUT THIS WINDOW.**

**Review.**

**Review.**

**Review.**

**Adios~ AE**


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh me! Oh my! Chapter two is FINALLY here. Sorry it took awhile to update. Enjoy the chapter. Read and review! Plox. Fun facts at the bottom.**

* * *

Shivers ran from her hand up to her shoulder. She pulled away, but he just drew her right back. Her eyes hadn't left the woods around her. She didn't want to look at this stranger. She'd always pretended she was brave, but she was always scared. She was scared that the newcomers, these Europeans, would kill her, or destroy her culture. She didn't know this would be worse.

Her eyes roved down to the man's feet. His shoes gave away that he was an outsider. His black leather boots had silver clasps. Dirt clumped on the bottoms of his boots. He must have trekked a long way to get here. His pants were tan, muddied at the bottom. She looked up, taking everything in. Brown leather jacket stretching to his feet with dark, furry cuffs. Fake fur, she noted silently. Creamy skin. Tan uniform. White collar shirt. Black tie. Blonde hair with one curl sticking straight into the air. Blue eyes. Blue eyes stared at her intently. All kinds of emotions played in those blue depths. Curiosity, worry, and confidence.

She was stunned by this strange foreigner. At first, she could barely move. Then, her senses returning, she tugged on her arm again. Fear made her heart beat like a dancing drum. He laughed nervously. "You're bleeding," he said cheerfully.

She felt like rolling her eyes. Way to state the obvious. But she didn't want to get in trouble with Russia if this was one of his guests. She pulled away weakly, but he still didn't let go. His light blue eyes danced. It infuriated her. He was happy she was bleeding?

I finally wrenched my hand free and took three faltering steps back. Worry creased his face as I turned around to flee back into the forest.

"Wait!" he called out loudly. White-feathered birds took off from the tops of the pine trees. Somehow, his voice compelled me to stop.

I.

Had.

To.

Obey.

Her caribou-fur dress did little to warm her. Ice seemed to reach the very center of her heart. She shook from cold anger. She hated these Europeans. They came with smug looks on their faces and vain words on their lips. They stared with haughty eyes and reviled her. They reviled her, the "polar bear garden".

She whirled around, eyes alight with anger. But, she felt her anger falter. The man before her didn't match the description she'd called to mind. In fact, he jumped back and asked loudly, "Woah. Are you okay?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she bit her lip again, drawing more blood to the surface. He looked at her with sympathy and said, "Come here."

She felt frozen to the ground. This guy was strange. He was so confident, but not in the haughty way of most other newcomers. He was kind.

"Come here," he repeated again.

This time, her feet moved forward. She shuffled slowly until she stood a foot away from him. He was tall, over a head above her. She didn't crane her head up to look at him. He leaned down to her. Blue eyes stared into hers. He laughed and said, "You have strange eyes."

She'd heard it many times before, but never had it had such a positive ring to it. He suddenly reached up to his neck and pulled away his tie, unwrapping it from beneath his white collar. He took it and dabbed it across her lips. He laughed again and said, "People are gonna think you're some sorta vampire or something."

She waited for him to finish. She didn't know what a vampire was. Nor did she care. She didn't like him touching her, but what could she do? He must be Russia's guest, or else why would he come to Alaska? He laughed and kept talking incessantly. Finally, he drew away his tie and said, "There."

She put her fingers up to her lips gently and stepped back. He rubbed a hand through his dirty blonde hair and asked, "So, you're Alaska?"

She hated that name, but she nodded dumbly. He smiled and said, "Okay. That's what I thought."

He continued, "And why are you bleeding?"

She didn't have the best English, so she looked down at her feet and blushed. She then stammered, "I-I got beat."

He asked, "By whom?" His voice rose with shock.

"Russia."

He fell silent, for once. She could hear him run a hand through his hair again. "I—well—"

For once, he was short on words. She looked up at him. His eyes darted nervously, and he laughed shortly. "Um, well, I have to go now. But—"

She tilted her head to the side, letting a wisp of hair fall across her cheek.

"I'll see you around, right?"

She looked back up at him quickly then down at her feet. "Right," she replied.

He smiled and said, "Bye."

She nodded and repeated, "Bye."

Then, he hurried of through the trees. She watched his tall, broad-shouldered figure disappearing among the trees. He was a nice guy, not bad at all. But she still felt a bit of unease. It wasn't everyday that foreign visitors came to Russian territory. Russia didn't exactly make a lot of friends. She wondered who the man was. His accent was strange, he was a bit naïve, and he was nice.

Weird.

* * *

**1867, Russian Province of Alaska. Negotiations for Purchase of Alaskan territory.**

"Ivan!" Alfred shouted as he ran towards the small settlement at the foot of a giant, purple mountain.

A door opened to a cabin on the outskirts of the village. Alfred stopped to a halt. For standing in the door of the cottage was no other but England. Arthur smirked and laughed. "Hello Alfred."

Tension rung in the clear, mountain air. It hadn't been long since the War of 1812. In fact, it had only happened 55 years ago. Alfred still felt angry and impatient around his mentor/father/brother. Arthur walked down the steps of the cabin just as Russia came out the door. The two men walked towards Alfred.

Surprised beyond words, Alfred stumbled towards them. They met in a field of forget-me-nots. Russia stayed a few feet away from Arthur, and Arthur refused to go near Alfred. America finally said, "Hey."

Russia smiled creepily and said, "So you came. I didn't think you would. You're not that great with maps and such."

Alfred pursed his lips. "I manage."

Russia nodded and said, "Well, I'm happy you're here. England is rather tight-fisted with his money. He's only offering five million dollars."

Alfred blinked. "Wait. Arthur's bidding?"

England snorted. "Of course I am, twat. What place would be better as a launching point for another attack on you?" He continued, "It'll keep you young."

Alfred felt his heart drop inside his chest. This was the last thing he needed. He didn't want Arthur breathing down his neck every moment of his life. That was why he rebelled. He wanted to be his own element. He frowned. England would not get Alaska.

England laughed again and said, "What, you thought I was here for the Eskie?"

Alfred's eyes widened. "Who?"

Russia replied, "Oh, Alaska. Just call her Eskie."

Alfred looked down at his feet, then back up. His eyes burned intensely. "Don't call her that."

Russia frowned. "What?" he asked innocently. "It's not like she cares. And she's ugly anyway."

Alfred shut his lips together. England chuckled and nodded his head in agreement. Alfred burned with righteous anger. He knew what Russia had done only a few hours earlier. He hurt her for no reason. Alfred couldn't help himself. He wanted to be a hero; he wanted to protect her.

"Anyway," Russia continued, "if you purchase her, then you can call her whatever you like."

His eyes focused on someone behind Alfred.

"Speaking of the witch," Russia stated.

Alfred whirled around and saw Alaska standing stock still. The only signs of movement were her trembles. Arthur seemed to find this funny. He chuckled and said, "She doesn't look like much."

Russia said, "That's what I thought. But, there are rumors."

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Legend says this land is more than a polar bear garden. The people of this land are vastly healthy and wealthy. There's something hidden here, is what they say. Many treasures just waiting for us to discover. Some of the legends include colors like black and gold, and lights. But those are just myths."

While Russia spoke, Alaska slowly raised her eyes. A question burned in the deep brown and blue orbs. Alfred met them easily, giving her a brash smile. Alaska quickly averted her gaze back to her feet.

"Alaska, these two are England and America. Arthur and Alfred, respectively."

She didn't glance back up. Instead, she clasped her hands together and remained still.

"I'm selling you off."

The words hit her like weights in the chest. Sure, Russia abused her constantly and never tried to understand or like her. But she didn't want to leave him for a complete stranger. She gulped. The question entered into her mind like a nagging fly. What if they were worse?

But she had met the man, America, in the forest. He had seemed nice then. But it dawned on her. Now, the pieces all fit. America was one of the strongest countries on the planet, and growing stronger by the year. And he lived right next door. It would be no wonder that he wanted to purchase her lands. She also knew enough about European politics that England held a bitter hatred for America, stemming back almost a century.

She was just a pawn, yet again. She bit her lip, reopening the wound that America had tried to seal. Neither of them wanted _her_. They only wanted power.

The four walked inside. Russia led the way. England walked ahead of America, nose stuck into the cold air. America lingered. He glanced back at Alaska. Alaska looked up, surprised, and saw a hint of kindness in his eyes. They comforted her somewhat, and she followed behind him as he trekked into the cabin.

* * *

"So what can you offer me, America?"

Russia leaned back into a plush, purple easy chair. A table stood next to it on wobbly legs, weakly supporting a vase of wilted sunflowers. A caribou head trophy stuck out from the wall behind him.

England sat in a straight-backed oak chair. America leaned back in a quilt-covered rocking chair. Alaska stood against the wood wall. No chair was offered her. She was just the pawn, the bidding item. Her dog had found his way back to her. His fluffy white body had streaked into the room just as she was shutting the door. He sat at her feet, warming them with his soft fur.

The question hung in the air. Alfred rocked his chair back once, then forth. He said, "5.5 million."

"Six," England countered confidently.

Alfred's hands gripped the arm rests of the rocker, knuckles turning white. Alaska was alarmed by this. What exactly _were_ his motives? Why was he getting so angry?

"Six point five," he gritted out.

England put a hand on his chin, thinking. Alfred met his cool green gaze and held it. England returned with an equally frightening glare and said with clarity, "Seven million US dollars."

Alfred gritted his teeth. He didn't have much more to offer.

"Seven point two," he said softly. He didn't want to admit defeat. That was all he could bring to the table. He hoped Arthur wouldn't counterbid.

His hopes died. "Eight million," he replied.

Alfred released his knuckle-like grip on the chair. He stood, face grim. Alaska felt her heart sink. Either one of the two gentlemen would be a scary new prospect. But somehow, she had hoped in her heart it would be the American who had tried to heal her chapped lips and bruised cheek.

He stood still, not speaking. Then, he said, "I have nothing more to offer. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

He turned around, and his eyes met hers yet again. An apology hung there, dripping in deep blue orbs. She didn't glance away this time. She could see his sincerity. He walked towards the door, brushing past her. She fought the urge to reach out to him. Instead, she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw.

"Wait," Russia said.

England, who had since been gloating, stood straight backed in his chair. Alfred turned back to the room, brown coat swishing at his feet.

"I accept America's offer."

Alaska's mouth parted in a faint gasp. England flew up from his chair, cheeks burning red. "This is an outrage! I demand a reason!"

Alfred stood speechless, expression almost the same as Alaska's.

Russia smiled, not getting up from his chair. "I don't like you much England. You beat me in the Crimean War only ten years ago. And—" He smirked conspiratorially and continued, "Your eyebrows are weird."

England balled up his hands into fists. Alfred chuckled and said confidently, "Get out of here, ol' chap," imitating a British accent rather poorly.

England whirled around and sneered, "Fine. Take your polar bear garden. I don't understand why you'd want _her_ anyway."

Alaska wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. His words were so virulent they almost brought her to tears, even after years of European taunts callusing her emotions. Alfred lost all humor in his voice as he replied, "You will _not_ speak about the Alaskan territory in that way. I want you to leave. Now."

England had no words left. He stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. Russia chuckled and said, "Haha. What an exit."

He stood and said, "I'd better be going now to."

He passed him, deep blue eyes sparkling. "Glad to have her off my hands."

She was already weak and vulnerable to taunts after England's words. He walked out the door with no goodbye to her or America. Then, all her emotions overwhelmed her. She had a deep feeling of being unwanted, hated even. She collapsed to the floor, slowly, head buried in her hands, braid draping lifelessly to the floor.

* * *

**Fun Facts:**

**- Alaska was unwanted territory.**

**- Russia refused to sell to England because they were rivals at the time in Europe.**

**- America's purchase price was actually extremely cheap.**

**- Chief orchestrator of the purchase was a man named Seward.**

**- Come back next time for more Alaska, doubts, and dogsledding!**

**Fin. -ae**


End file.
